


In the Woods

by livingvakariouslythroughyou



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: AKA the Lost Year, Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avocados at Law (Marvel), But also, Camping, Daredevil & Defenders New Year's Exchange 2021, Daredevil Bingo, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Friendship, Gen, Gen Work, Grief/Mourning, Hozier inspired, I wrote this during the pandemic so there was bound to be some themes of grief, Law School Days, Male Friendship, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson Friendship, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson at Columbia, Post Electra Natchios, Suicidal Thoughts, The Early Years - Freeform, Themes of Loss, and I'm taking liberties with some elements of backstory, and for young Matt Murdock, and it's been on my mind, because it ends well I promise, because we just finished 2020, canon-typical levels of alcohol consumption, i was in my feelings clearly, if it has maybe you will appreciate this, in the past, maybe it's been on yours too, oh shit almost forgot the important ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingvakariouslythroughyou/pseuds/livingvakariouslythroughyou
Summary: “I know you might have had your heart set on somewhere with sun and sand and cocktails and bikinis, but St. Barts isn’t exactly in the Nelson family budget. Sorry. But I figured we’d do the next best thing.”Matt nodded, eyebrow raised for he was fascinated to know what Foggy considered the “next best thing” to a beachside resort that would fit within two college students’ budgets. “Great. So…”Foggy reached a hand out and settled it on Matt’s shoulder. The energy radiating off of him was palpable, nearly enough to keep Matt from blanching at his suggestion when he finally said, “How do you feel about camping?”—In which, Foggy takes Matt camping to mend his broken heart, Matt reflects on his past experiences with camping  and loss, and their friendship grows stronger as a result.Written for the 2021 Daredevil & Defenders NYE Exchange for dippy-ecks.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15
Collections: DDE’s 2021 New Year’s Day Exchange, Daredevil Bingo





	In the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Created for the 2021 Daredevil & Defenders NYE Exchange for dippy-ecks using the prompts In The Woods Somewhere by Hozier (which inspired the title), as well as this quote from The Outsiders: "You get tough like me and you don't get hurt. You look out for yourself and nothin' can touch you." I also was inspired by the third prompt Cutman, in terms of the time in young Matt's life that this story references. Also fulfills my square for the prompt of found family for Daredevil bingo. 
> 
> I'm sorry it's so ridiculously late, dippy-ecks, but I hope you enjoy it! I hadn't written a lot of Matt & Foggy before this (I don't know why, but I know I need to do more now!) and it was a lot of fun. Hopefully I did them justice.

“Murdock! Put away that textbook and pack a bag! I refuse to let you wallow-study your way through spring break!” 

Matt raised his head from where he hunched over the tome on his desk as Foggy came bounding through the door of their dorm room. He fought against a reflexive flinch at Foggy’s presence and general air of exuberance. As much as Matt loved the guy, sometimes he was just a little too chipper for his own good— especially when Matt’s mood was this dour. Regardless, Matt worked to morph the grimace on his face to a more neutral expression. He was loathe to admit it, but Foggy was right; he was wallowing. But it wasn’t without cause.

Electra was gone. She’d vanished in the blink of an eye with no notice and left him not so much as a goodbye note on the back of a receipt. He had no idea where she’d headed and no idea how to reach her, leading him to believe she did not wish him to try. Matt had never before been heart-broken but if he had learned any of the signs and symptoms via osmosis from various pop songs throughout the years, he thought he might finally have come down with a nasty case of it himself. At least that would explain why he hadn’t slept in days even though he’d spent the better part of the last week in bed, and why he couldn’t seem to remember the last time he ate, let alone felt hungry. Still, he didn’t have to admit all that to Foggy. And he’d be damned before he would, because there was much too much associated with Electra that Foggy could never know. He would only start to get curious and ask questions about things he could never know if Matt were to admit the emotional toll her absence had been taking on him. And to think— all of this because he’d refused to kill a man when Electra had put that goddamned knife in his hands.

“I’m not wallowing. I’m merely being studious. There’s a difference,” Matt said archly, returning his attention and fingertips to the book of torts in front of him. Never mind the fact that he’d read the same paragraph five times in the last ten minutes without actually comprehending any of the words because a certain raven-haired ghost kept invading his mind and breaking his concentration.

Foggy crossed the room and perched himself on the corner of Matt’s desk. 

“That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you spent all semester with this girl you definitely are not wallowing over, to the point you skipped midterms and are now dangerously close to failing if you don’t straighten out and fly right?” 

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose to hide the frown he couldn’t help at Foggy’s annoyingly accurate assessment. But even if he was irritated to have been called out, the feeling didn’t last long. He was eternally in awe of the way Foggy could master a chastising tone that still managed to convey genuine concern and caring. Matt was sure he’d make a fine lawyer one day, and God help any witness attempting to obfuscate the truth when Foggy turned that penetrating stare of his on them— the one that could make a person feel like they were as transparent as glass. Matt had never even had the pleasure of seeing it firsthand and still he knew the power that it held. It was something a person could feel, and Matt was unsurprised but still a little chagrined to be feeling it now.

“Buddy, I know wallowing when I see it, and you are wallowing. But I don’t blame you, I just want to help,” Foggy said, shrugging.

Heaving a sigh, Matt sat back in his chair, cocking his head in Foggy’s direction. “And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?”

A brilliant smile broke across Foggy’s face, his eyes twinkling as Matt’s defenses began to erode.

“We need to get you out this room, for one thing,” Foggy said, gesturing with his hand to indicate the space around them. 

Matt frowned in thought as he considered the room which honestly  _ had  _ begun to feel a little suffocating in the last few days. Surely that was only partially due to his recent change in relationship status. Well, that and the plane ticket for St. Barts which was sitting in the wastebasket to the left of his desk. Matt shook his head to clear away an errant wonder about where it’s mate might be at this point. Had she thrown hers away too? Or maybe kept it as a souvenir in her scrapbook of conquests achieved and hearts broken? Or had she actually kept the reservation and gone on to St. Barts without him, after having left several days earlier to god knew where? He didn’t know which outcome was worse but knew he didn’t want to sit there contemplating it a moment longer.

“No argument there. What did you have in mind?” he asked, giving his friend a wry grin.

“Well, I know you might have had your heart set on somewhere with sun and sand and cocktails and bikinis, but St. Barts isn’t exactly in the Nelson family budget. Sorry. But I figured we’d do the next best thing.”

Matt nodded, eyebrow raised for he was fascinated to know what Foggy considered the “next best thing” to a beachside resort that would fit within two college students’ budgets. “Great. So…”

Foggy reached a hand out and settled it on Matt’s shoulder. The energy radiating off of him was palpable, nearly enough to keep Matt from blanching at his suggestion when he finally said,

“How do you feel about camping?”

————

In truth, Matt did not tend to enjoy camping. He’d done his fair share of it growing up, certainly more than enough for him to have formed an opinion about the activity. After losing his dad, it had become an annual summer tradition. St. Agnes had a long standing agreement with a Catholic camp in Greeley, Pennsylvania, and so the children were allowed to descend upon the grounds of Camp Shohola for two weeks every July. Being across the state line but only two hours away by bus, it was just far enough away to count as novel and exciting without the distance being seen as scary or too foreign. But while his peers all seemed to enjoy the trip every year, looking forward to it for months beforehand, Matt perpetually dreaded the fourteen days he would have to spend exposed to the elements in the woods of Pike County.

He hated the bugs and the ableism and the macho activities and traditions which were baked into nearly every part of the experience, to be sure. But mostly he hated how resentful it all made him. Coming to terms with his loss of sight was a difficult process, especially in the early days, but there were particular experiences and activities that made it harder. And Matt always seemed to encounter them in the woods while he was supposed to be learning lessons about personal responsibility and self-esteem and God. 

Whenever he went camping, Matt noticed a number of things he missed out on by not being able to see. But they weren’t the normal things he normally noticed that he missed. He didn’t find himself wishing he could have one last chance to look at the dog-eared picture of his father which was tucked away in the cover of his bible when he was feeling lonely, and he didn’t even wish he could see the face of whatever (seemingly) pretty new girl he might encounter after noticing her sweet, lilting voice. Instead it was stranger, more nebulous and abstract things that he found himself longing to do— things he hadn’t ever done before but which suddenly landed like leaden weights about his shoulders as he considered the implications of his limitations.  He found himself wishing he could survey the wonders of the foreign wilderness around him, see the glimmer of the sun through the trees at sunset, catch the flash of a rabbit or deer dashing through the brush, and especially watch the glimmer of the night sky— full of stars when free of the light pollution from the city… or so he’d been told .

Matt’s father had been many things, but an accomplished outdoorsman was not one of them. Multiple times when he was younger, Matt remembered his father bringing up the idea of taking him camping in an off-handed way, pledging to him that one day the two of them would spend the weekend together in the woods doing all of the typical camping trip things. Having grown up in the city and barely spending any time outside of it, Matt had always been thrilled by the idea when his father brought it up. But as time went on, he became more discerning about the declarations his father made about such vacations. And he noticed a trend too; his dad would mention the idea less and less frequently and whenever he did, it seemed to be after a particularly bad fight or a rough month of rent, generally whenever something had gone wrong. His father would get quiet, reflective, and then his face would change, becoming wistful and distant. And then his voice would get… melancholy. He would still speak of the plan, but with a sadness and resignation that still made Matt’s heart heavy, as if he knew even then that the words he was speaking were little more than a wish.

After the accident, his father just stopped bringing the trip up, but Matt never forgot. Once his father died, he tried to stop thinking of the possibility entirely, writing it off as an absurd and hopeless dream given the circumstances of his new life. But in a cruel twist of fate, it was only after losing both his sight and his father that he was finally able to have the experience he’d so long imagined. And as such, as he first walked the grounds at Camp Shohola— and even for years after— he struggled to think of his time there as little more than a grim reminder of what he’d lost.  He just couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, somewhere was laughing at him, that this was another beat in the cosmic joke that had become his life.

Once he was started on that negative, pitying train of thought, the rest spiraled behind as effortlessly as breathing too hard onto a house of cards. Because if his life was already so much of a joke when he was barely ten, what torment and disappointment awaited him as he grew older? What else did he stand to lose, and how was he ever supposed to stomach  _ that  _ pain? Especially on top of all that he still felt now? And the anger— what was he supposed to do with all of the anger that already bubbled under his skin and made him want to hurt himself and anyone who attempted to help him indiscriminately and without reservation? Wasn’t it easier in the long run (and safer too) to assume that things would not get better for him, only worse? 

He knew that suicide was a sin; in fact, if Father Lantom and the Church’s teachings were to be believed about the matter, it was arguably the worst of them— a mortal sin (the irony of which was  _ not  _ lost on him). But in those moments, it seemed like the answer to a problem he could not figure out how to otherwise solve. The desire to rid himself of his troubles in such a manner beckoned to him like a siren’s call, forbidden and enthralling and impossibly perfect. The circumstances of camping and the woods provided the exact conditions which would allow Matt to act on such a decision if he were to finally give in. All it would take would be finally deciding to go through with it.

And yet… 

Each time he would consider committing to the darkness, he would falter. Every time he attempted to muster the resolve to sneak out of his cabin or peel off from the group and find some remote area with a sheer cliff face or a deep lake or even a sturdy branch with a good length of rope, a memory would pop into his head. His father’s voice would halt him in his tracks, and he would hear the words as clear as the day his father had spoken them.

_ I know the last few months since the accident have been hard, but you’re learning. Learning how to be tough like your ‘Pa. You get tough like me and you don't get hurt. You look out for yourself and nothin' can touch you. And no matter how many times you go down, you always get back up, Matty. You hear me? Nothin’ can keep you down. Nothin’ _ .

So instead of following through with his darker impulses, Matt would spend the rest of the day or the night sick with grief and lonely to his marrow with his father’s memory echoing in his mind. 

But he would choose not to give up, at least not yet. Then he would count the hours until he was able to escape the woods and allowed to return to his regimented and boring but much less depressing existence at St. Agnes.

————

Considering that Matt did not wish to dredge up all of his past in order to tell Foggy exactly why he did not care for camping, he simply replied, 

“Haven’t been since I was a kid, but it wasn’t always my favorite thing.”

Foggy chuckled knowingly and crossed his arms. “Well, sounds like you might not have been doing it right. So why don’t we see if we can’t change your opinion about it?”

Matt knew he could say no. He also knew that he was likely to be just as miserable alone in his dorm room all break as if he went with Foggy, so he might as well choose to pass the time with company.

“Why the hell not?”

——

“So what do you think, Murdock? Isn’t so bad, is it?” Foggy asked as he leaned back in his camp chair and lifted a bottle of Yuengling to his lips.

And as it turned out, camping wasn’t all bad— at least as an adult. With dusk falling, he sat across from Foggy, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the scent of the oak as it burned in the firepit. And Matt had to admit some things about camping and being in the woods might even be good. Though he would bet that a large part of the improvement of his opinion was due to this most recent experience … which also happened to be directly correlated to the company and the libations. Still, when Foggy shook him from his reflections, asking for confirmation of the superiority of his vacation plans compared to beachside mai tais, Matt had to give him credit.

A crooked smirk crawled across Matt’s face as he mirrored Foggy’s pose and closed his eyes, listening to the symphony of nature playing in the trees around them.“

“Could use a few more scantily clad ladies, but I guess it’ll do.” 

Foggy snorted, nearly aspirating his beer. “Maybe I was wrong. You’re not wallowing as much as I thought. That or my geographical cure is working, hallelujah!” he cheered, throwing a fist in the air in triumph.

Tipping his chin down, Matt huffed a laugh. “It’s working wonders, Fog. Thank you. Truly.” 

A beat passed with the hum of the woods and the crackling of the fire as the only sounds to be heard between them. Then, Foggy took a drink and cleared his throat. Matt’s heart clenched reflexively at the way the sound reminded him of a gun being cocked. The air felt just as charged while Matt waited for him to speak.

“I’m sorry, buddy. About Electra. You seemed pretty hung up on her and I know she was … well, practically perfect. But it sucks that she just left like that.” Foggy kept his head down and busied his hands by picking at the label of his beer bottle. Even if Matt was sighted, he would wager a guess that Foggy wouldn’t be meeting his eyes for this conversation. Matt couldn’t say he blamed him. Hell, he preferred it that way too. Some words were better spoken to the wind passing between two people than directly to one’s face.

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” Matt murmured after a moment of picking at the label on his own bottle. 

A comfortable silence descended with them both settling back into their seats. Matt grinned to himself as an owl hooted in a tree just north of their campsite and a fox scurried through the tree-line, clearly curious about the racket the two men were making in the middle of its territory.

“Well, let’s get you back in the saddle, eh? That’s the best way to get over someone in my experience. So is there anyone else you’ve been eyeing? Or… shit, sorry,” Foggy frowned and rubbed his eyes, embarrassed. “Uh, anyone else you’ve noticed?”

Shoulders slumping, Matt sighed. He’d expected this bit eventually but still had been hoping to avoid it. What was he supposed to tell Foggy? How was he supposed to explain that Electra was it for him? That she was the only person in the world who had ever truly known him or understood him at all? That she was the only one there would ever be, or could ever be? How was he ever supposed to find someone who he could truly be himself with again?

He might as well attempt to find a way to turn lead into gold.

“Nah, not really. But I-I don’t …” he sighed and tipped his head back, closing his eyes. Why did his throat always tighten when he talked about her or even thought about her? He took a sip from his beer, hoping the alcohol would loosen his tongue, or if he was really lucky, loosen the noose she had tied around his heart when she slipped out under the cover of darkness.

“I don’t see the point. I’m not trying to sound melodramatic here Fog, but I think she’s it for me.”

Foggy scoffed and cocked his head at Matt, raising a skeptical eyebrow. He stared Matt down, waiting a beat to allow Matt to reveal his joke or walk back the ridiculousness of his statement, but he didn’t. When it became clear Matt wasn’t going to say anything else, Foggy pursed his lips and sat up in his chair, elbow on his knee as he gestured emphatically to accentuate his confusion. 

“Come on. What the hell are you talking about? Last I checked you’re twenty-five years old and yet you’re already throwing in the towel in terms of your future romantic prospects?” He whistled long and low and shook his head. “Wooow. She really did a number on you, didn’t she? Buddy, I’m sorry. Break ups always suck, no question, but especially when you get that tied up in somebody. But you’ve got to believe that there’s more to your story. And I’m sure that someday, when you’re a big, fancy lawyer, you’ll meet someone new.”

The smile Matt gave him then was only partially fake. He could appreciate the sentiment even if he didn’t believe in the rosy future Foggy was painting for him. Maybe it didn’t have to be so bad being alone for the rest of his life, so long as he had friends like Foggy to keep him company.

In desperate need of a change of subject before he allowed himself to think any longer or harder about that not-so-far-fetched future, Matt decided to turn the tables on Foggy. “And what about you? Ever had your heart broken?” he asked before taking a long pull from his beer. 

Matt’s question was met with a deep, full-bodied howl of laughter from Foggy. “Okay, I see what you’re doing— changing the subject. And since you're a man suffering, I’ll humor you.” He drained his beer and stood from his chair. “But first I need a refill. You?”

Matt tipped back his own bottle, finishing the remnants in one swig. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

Foggy walked the few steps to the cooler sitting on the picnic bench left of their tent to retrieve their new beverages. On the way back, though, he paused, staring up at the sky above them.

“Damn. I wish you could see this. The sky really is something out here, without all the light from the city.” Foggy’s voice was a low drawl, dripping with awe.

Matt frowned, swallowing a sigh at the way his friend unintentionally stumbled upon a sore spot which had plagued him for years. The wonder in Foggy’s voice was like a punch to the gut. If only he only knew exactly how badly Matt had longed for that very same thing, more times than he could count.

As Matt’s silence extended, Foggy turned back and caught the traces of a grimace on his face. 

“Oh god. Matt, I’m sorry. That’s… that’s a shitty thing to say,” he said, hanging his head as reproach colored his tone. He wordlessly handed Matt a new beer and slinked back to his chair.

Using the tricks he’d learned years ago from Stick, Matt focused on nothing but the sound and sensation of his breathing. For a full beat he worked to regulate his emotional state, and by association his body and expression. When he felt confident he could speak without his voice wavering, he cocked his head in Foggy’s direction. 

“Thanks. I appreciate that. But it ’s okay. I know what you meant. You know it’s funny...” 

He paused for a moment, contemplating whether he should continue speaking and say the thing that was on the tip of his tongue but protected behind multiple layers of armor and steel plating in his heart. He couldn’t exactly say why, but he decided in the moment that he might as well be honest. Foggy was as real a friend as he’d ever had, and with Electra gone, he truly had no one else. He knew that each new thing he told Foggy was an additional bit of ammunition that could one day be used to destroy him if Foggy ever decided to betray his trust, but some part of him knew that if there was one singular person in the world he would never have to worry about turning on him, it was Foggy Nelson.

“Uh, well, it’s funny because you’d have no way of knowing but that was actually something that bothered me a lot as a kid. Not being able to see the stars free of the city’s lights.”

“Really?” Foggy asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Every summer, they took all of us kids from St. Agnes on a camping trip to this place in the woods of Pennsylvania, about two hours away. I pretty much hated every moment of it each year.”

“Oh man, that sounds like it had the potential to be a real disaster. So what was it like?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck as he carefully deliberated the level of intimate detail he wished to share with his friend. After a short pause, he huffed a laugh under his breath.

“Well, suffice it to say that some part of the experience was lost on me, having never been able to visit the woods or go camping before my accident. But even though I didn’t exactly know what I was missing by not being able to do all the typical camping trip things— nature walks or wildlife scavenger hunts or looking at constellations or whatever else— I still knew it had to be pretty cool because everybody else was constantly going on about it all. And it made me really angry at the time.”

Foggy nodded solemnly. “I can imagine. So you really never got to go camping before?”

Matt licked his lips to keep from frowning at the pang of sorrow that struck him in the stomach at Foggy’s question.

“My dad always talked about it, how he wanted us to spend the weekend together in the woods doing the whole ‘father-son’ thing. But he was always so busy at the gym and with his boxing. Then I had my accident, and he stopped mentioning it. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t be interested anymore. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much, but I still would have loved the opportunity to spend the time with him.” 

Taking a drink of his beer, Matt paused and reflected on the words he had spoken. It was strange how sometimes it took saying things out loud to consciously make the connections between thoughts which existed in the subconscious for god knew how long. 

Matt huffed a laugh and shook his head, glad to finally have an understanding of the experience but frustrated at his own mind and the lengths to which he would go to keep things protected and compartmentalized, even from himself.

“What’s so funny?” Foggy asked.

Matt sighed and shook his head. “It’s not funny, it’s just…” he trailed off, squinting in a frown as he searched for the right words.

“I hadn’t really had the chance to grieve my dad yet when we went on the trip. Hell, it took me years to work through all my grief and anger and pain. And an argument could be made that I’m  _ still  _ working through it.”

Foggy gave him a small smile and a chuckle at that.

“But it just helps put things into perspective for me when I think about it now,” Matt said. With a sigh, he shifted in his chair, bringing the foot which had previously rested on his other knee to the mossy earth beneath him, grounding him in the cool air of the spring twilight. He took another drink of his beer, and this one was longer as he noted the hops and malt and various flavors as they passed over his tongue. Anything to help him feel anchored in the present moment as he allowed himself to remember and speak about the past.

“I hadn’t ever really consciously put it together, why I hated those trips so much— because I never got to go on one with my dad before he died,” Matt said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I can’t imagine how tough that was.” Foggy really was a good listener. It made it ridiculously easy for Matt to continue speaking, saying things that he could barely even believe he was consciously admitting to himself, let alone another person.

“Have you ever considered … hurting yourself? Or ending your life? Because that’s how upset it all made me. But I was upset enough I couldn’t quite see the connections in my own mind, or how grieving for my dad would have helped me to process everything and stop feeling so helpless.” 

Saying the words evaporated an albatross which had been hanging around his neck and dragging him down for as long as he could remember. He’d never understood therapy, but he couldn’t deny that there was a strange kind of magic to speaking the darkest and heaviest and most painful truths that a heart could hold.

“Jesus, Matt. I’m so sorry. That’s … that’s fucking awful.” Foggy said with a somber frown.

A branch snapping underfoot of a deer that was trotting through the woods several yards downwind of their campsite broke Matt’s trance. He gave a subtle shake of his head as if to clear the last remnants of any vulnerability which may have remained, reconstructing his walls and re-donning his armor. Now that he’d shared all of this with Foggy, he shouldn’t need to share anything of substance with anyone again for … a good few years.

“Yeah. Well … I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Matt said, taking another swig from his beer.

Cocking his head at a truly comical angle, Foggy asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you might have asked me about camping as a kid, but that’s probably way more than you wanted to know. And a serious buzzkill. I apologize,” Matt said, ashamed at his impulsive transparency. He took a drink to put a barrier between them and give him something to do other than listen to whatever kindness Foggy would attempt to offer him.

“Buddy, you don’t have to apologize. I’m just sorry that you had to go through that all by yourself. I wish I’d somehow known you back then,” Foggy said, voice ringing strong and sympathetic, and clear like a bell. Matt wanted to believe him just based on that, but he hesitated. It wasn’t until he heard the same strong, clear, even beating from Foggy’s heart that he knew his friend was telling the truth. It made tears prick at the corners of his eyes. 

Matt smiled at him. It was small, but genuine. He wasn’t sure he was capable of more at the moment. “Yeah, me too, Fog.”

A companionable silence passed as the two men drank for a few minutes, taking in the night and the warm comfort of true friendship, as cozy as a favorite sweater. Matt’s thoughts raced, pinballing around to various different topics, but inevitably landing on Electra as all his thoughts seemed to do these days.

He sighed at the specter of her which continued to haunt him, even as he attempted to distract himself by spending time with his friend. 

“What is it this time?” Foggy asked, knowingly.

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s nothing.”

Foggy narrowed his eyes and gave him a look that communicated the fact that he did not, for a moment, believe him.

With a shrug and a sigh, Matt conceded. “Well it’s just … I was thinking about Electra.”

Foggy flattened his mouth into a frown. “Dammit, we were doing so good!” he said under his breath as he slapped his leg.

“I’m okay, don’t worry. Mostly I was just thinking that I hadn’t told anyone any of that before … not even Electra,” Matt said with a slight tilt of his head to emphasize his point.

“No kidding?!” Foggy asked, eyes big and bright and incredulity coloring his tone. “Well, thanks for telling me, Buddy. I appreciate it,” he said, voice now soft and amazed, almost reverential.

Matt could do little more than nod in acknowledgment, but he hoped it would be enough. He felt dangerously close to unzipping his defenses again, and he really couldn’t have that.

Foggy wasn’t quite ready to let the topic go, however. “You really loved her, didn’t you?” he asked, after a long pause in which he looked long and hard at Matt, assessing for something Matt could only hope to guess.

Matt drew in a long, deep breath before blowing it in out in an equally long sigh. There was no use trying to lie about this part of his relationship with her. The evidence more than spoke for itself. 

“Yeah, Fog. I really did.”

Foggy nodded once, as if Matt’s answer had checked a box and he was moving down a list. “And you still miss her?”

This time Matt bit his tongue before he spoke. There were lots of ways to tell the truth about that particular question, and some of them would even keep his secrets safe about his abilities.

“I do. Everyday. But you know,  I’ve gotten pretty good at missing people over the years,” he said before knocking back a generous swig of his beer. 

Foggy’s heart wrenched at his friend’s words. But surely it had to mean something that Matt was choosing to share all of these things with him in the first place. He decided to focus on that rather than on all Matt had lost.

“Well here’s hoping you don’t ever have to add me to that list,” he said, raising his beer in Matt’s direction. 

Matt cocked his head at him, blinking in surprise. A smirk crept across his face as he considered Foggy’s offer. Maybe it was folly to believe there could ever be anyone in his life that would  _ stay _ , that he wouldn’t ever have to miss them ever again as long as he drew breath. But maybe, just maybe he’d get it with this one person. Following an impulse he desperately hoped he would not later come to regret, Matt raised his beer to mirror Foggy’s.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Sláinte,” they said in tandem, both drinking from their beers to complete the ritual.

“So, how do you feel about Laura?” Foggy asked as they settled back into the chairs, the heavy conversation of the night now truly done and over.

Matt blinked at Foggy blankly. “What are you talking about?”

“The super hot, but also surprisingly sweet blonde in our criminal procedure class? What do you think about her?” Foggy asked, leaning forward. His tone was conspiratorial and his expression was determined. Matt would laugh if he wasn’t so baffled.

“Well, I’ll have to take your word in regards to her appearance,” he said, gesturing to his eyes. “But otherwise I think she’s lovely. I’m good, though. But— really, thanks,” Matt said, playing with the seams on the arm of his camp chair.

“Oh, come on. Let me set you up on one date. Just one. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll let it go. But at least give it a shot.” 

Matt rubbed his forehead as he played out contingencies in his head. There were plenty of worse people for Foggy to choose. At the very least he’d have one date with a very nice woman he’d never have to talk to again. He supposed that was one way to keep up the charade and keep from having to answer impossible questions about Electra.

“Fine,” he huffed in a long-suffering sigh. “One date. But if we don’t work out after that, we go our separate ways.”

“Hand to God,” Foggy said, holding one hand (and his beer) to his chest, while the other he raised to the sky with an open palm.

Matt shook his head and took a drink from his beer. “I sure hope I don’t regret this,” he said, more for Foggy’s benefit than his own. 

Foggy gave him a crooked grin. “I doubt it. But no matter what happens, you’ve always got me, Buddy. Hell, we’re Nelson & Murdock, Avocados at Law! Who needs a significant other when you’ve got a business partner like we do?”

Matt smiled, nodding his head in agreement. But at this point, Foggy felt like more than just his business partner. He even felt like more than his friend. He felt like the kind of friend that you take on as your family— the kind that almost means more than blood-relatives because you get to choose them, as if bestowing an honor on someone after they pass through a series of trials to earn your trust. How had he gotten so lucky with Foggy?

“Hey Fog, I’ve got an idea.” 

“Okay, sure. What kind?”

“You know how I didn’t get to do all those quintessential camping things, like see the forest or the wildlife or the night sky?”

“Uh yeah?”

“Well, I think I found a way around that. Could you maybe ... describe it to me?”

A beat passed in which Foggy cleared his throat and blinked away tears he would go to his grave denying if anyone asked. “Of course, Buddy. Where should I start?”

And as Matt listened to Foggy describe their surroundings— the trees and the animals and the night sky glittering above them, for once he forgot about Electra. He forgot about his father. He forgot about all of his past and the things he’d lost. He simply thought about being in the woods with a true friend, someone he knew would always be there for him, for the first time in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes/caveats: 
> 
> I haven't read the comics so all my knowledge of these characters comes from the shows. I don't know if camping is a thing Matt Murdock has ever done, but somehow I got the idea in my head and it seemed like a fun thing to explore. The camp referenced in Pennsylvania is real, but I don't know anything more about it than what I could google. I did my fair share of attending religious camps during my summers growing up (it's cool if you did that too and enjoyed it/had positive experiences, but looking back all I can say about my experiences now is *yikes*), so I drew on some experience from that. I haven't written much of Matt & Foggy together for whatever reason, so I hope their dynamic and dialogue seems right. Let me know your thoughts about that if you'd like. Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
